


all this and heaven too

by onekingdomonce



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: AU, First Time, M/M, POV Laurent, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 15:40:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10642899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekingdomonce/pseuds/onekingdomonce
Summary: “Forgive me,” Damianos said. “If you could perhaps- elaborate?”Laurent passed a hand over his face. It appeared that Damianos was incapable of picking up on subtly, and needed to be handled with the most straightforward approach. Very well.“I have never,” Laurent said plainly. “And I would like to make my own judgments on the supposed delights, preferably before I leave Akielos.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by this ask i received on tumblr: "AU where Laurent seeks Damen mainly because of his vast expertise in the matters of the flesh (and not because he also founds him very attractive and big and strong too...) to take his virginity... pop his cherry because in Vere at his age is unseemly to keep pure at his age or maybe he's fed up about everyone talking how great sex is... surely there's no big deal right?..."

_And the heart is hard to translate, it has a language of it's own, it talks in tongues and quiet sighs.  
Words were never so useful, so I was screaming out a language that I never knew existed before._

 

Laurent was in the gardens, his favored book of the week on his knees. He sat in his preferred spot, a reclining stone bench on the north side, primarily hidden by an abundance of rose bushes, white petals spread out around him. The spot had seclusion, but still gave him an unbothered view of the wide expanse of the garden. The evening carried an aromatic spring breeze, tossing Laurent’s hair lightly. 

He brought a finger to the page and turned, just as he heard voices rounding the corner, approaching his bench. Laurent preferred silence when he read, not liking anything to disturb the world in which he immersed himself into. The murmurs grew louder and he waited for the inevitable point where they became the maximum volume from the close proximity, and then faded away as they continued on their way.

The moment did not come. The murmurs had become intelligible words now, and Laurent shut his book with a huff as he subjected himself to having to overhear their conversation. The conversation that was disturbing his sanctuary, which he did not have many of.

“You should have seen the way he spread,” a man’s voice said, one Laurent did not recognize. “He just rolled over, like he’d been fantasizing about my cock for days.”

“Or maybe he just prefers to play the woman,” another man said around a chuckle, his voice ringing no bells in Laurent’s ears either.

Laurent’s cheeks heated inevitably as the nature of their conversation dawned on him. It was a reaction that tended to happen to him often. Much to his dismay, but to Auguste’s delight, who loved to ruffle his hair and tease him like he was still a boy.

“He was absolutely filthy,” the first man continued. “Like a pet from the wildest dream.” The voices finally started to drift away with the breeze as they walked on, and Laurent heard the last of his comments before they were gone.

“I can still taste him,” he mused, the words spoken amorously, like he was reveling in the thought.

Laurent felt his cheeks warm again, and he was glad that he was alone, despite being hidden from view. He heard enough of these conversations around the palace, and did not need them protruding on his personal time. He opened his book back up to the spot he had been holding with his finger, and let his eyes scan the page slowly. 

It took Laurent reading the same line for a third time to accept that he wasn’t going to be getting any more reading done for the time being. His mind had become too preoccupied, a jumble of thoughts, involuntarily returning to the men’s lewd conversation. Guards, he presumed. 

It seemed there was no place Laurent could go without overhearing someone discussing sex, each conversation more vulgar than the last. What more, the conversations were extremely eroticized, something Laurent did not understand. 

Men fuck. Laurent knew this, had known this for years now. It was impossible to grow up in this court and not be surrounded by constant titillation, both through sordid talk and suggestive displays. Laurent never quite understood the massive appeal, though. The absolute ecstasy that everyone seemed to link with it. Sex was a natural bodily want, but unlike the people in Arles who tended to treat it as crucially as they treated air, Laurent deemed the idea of it… passable. 

He had never felt a strong craving, never felt much of a craving at all, if he was being honest with himself. Auguste still took great joy in teasing Laurent about the time he was nine and told Auguste that he would have heirs and Laurent would have books. Although he would not repeat those exact words, and certainly not to anyone but Auguste, the point still stood in Laurent’s mind.

Perhaps it was the people Laurent was subjected to. There was an array of different people in his kingdom, and it was not as if Laurent had a shortage of suitors. Over the years, he had had plenty of different people approach him, and try their hand at courting him into prying his legs open, each another failed attempt. Not one person had managed to even slightly pique Laurent’s interest, and he barely managed a polite extraction each time.

It had grown dark throughout Laurent’s spiraling thoughts, far too dark to read, although it had become clear that that would not be an occurrence tonight. He raised himself from the bench and tucked his book under his arm, making for the entrance to the palace.

Laurent made his way through the entryway at the back, the pillars low, the stones wide. Back when Auguste had been less busy with his duties, when Laurent was just a boy, they would often play here. Chasing each other through the gardens, making their way through secret entrances and pathways, hiding away from everyone else.

Laurent began to make his way up the winding staircase, his hand light on the railing, his mind falling back to his previous thoughts. 

Perhaps it was time Laurent satisfy his curiosity. He was a young man, only twenty, a few months away from when his ascension would be, had he been the Crown Prince. In retrospect, it was quite odd that he had gone this long without seriously considering it. For all of Laurent’s indifference, he could not deny the curiosity that lingered there behind each quipped remark. There had to be something about sex for it to receive such a fervent response.

Auguste enjoyed sex, he knew. However, Auguste did have a preference for women, something Laurent could not even begin to comprehend, so the conversation did not arise much between them, their vastly different tastes apparent. 

This, of course, begged the question of whom. Laurent’s mind raced as he made his way down the narrow, marble halls, making his way to his chambers.

“No one is to enter,” Laurent said to the guards as he did every night, hardly sparing them a glance as he walked in, the doors shutting behind him. He set his book down on the small table by his reclining couch, and made for the archway that led to his bedchambers.

Unlike most nights, Laurent did not call for a servant to attend him. He raised his own hands to the laces at his throat and began to pull them through their eyelets, his thoughts preoccupied.

Aside from the primary question of whom he would seek out, there was the matter of his surroundings. Laurent was no fool. He knew the nature of his court, the way talk spread like wildfire, twisting from one mouth to the next until the final word had no correlation to the original, entirely manipulated for people’s amusement.

Laurent would never chance that. Not at his own expense. There was enough talk of him spreading for the time being, much to Auguste’s chagrin, and Laurent’s indifference. None of it bothered Laurent, not really. He cared little for what people said about him, their opinions and thirst for gossip insignificant to him.

Regardless, Laurent saw to reason to add fuel to the fire. If he were to do anything to satisfy his curiosities, he knew it would have to be far from here.

 

A knock sounded early the next morning, spurring Laurent to set down the documents he had been looking at, glancing up at the door. “Come in,” he called out.

The door opened, and Laurent felt his lips curve upwards as Auguste walked in, the guards shutting the doors at once. 

“Brother,” Laurent said as he stood, his smile now taking up all of his features. Auguste smiled back as he walked into the room, waving his hand as he pulled up his own chair. 

“Sit,” he said.

They sat across from each other, Auguste reaching for one of the pastries on Laurent’s plate that he had been eating before Auguste joined him. Laurent swatted his hand playfully, and Auguste shoved the entire thing in his mouth, the cream smearing on his cheeks. Laurent laughed as he threw a cloth napkin at him, hitting him in the face with it. “You are a Crown Prince,” he said around his smile. “Act like it.”

“Ah, but I am never a Prince with you little brother,” Auguste said, wiping his face off.

Laurent felt himself instantly relax, always feeling more at ease when Auguste was around. They only acted like this when they were alone, shirking their princely dispositions and letting their guards down, simply being brothers.

“How was your meeting?” Laurent asked, ripping off a large chunk of bread and setting it in front of Auguste, placing a platter of mixed cheeses next to it.

“Dreary,” Auguste replied, tearing a piece of bread. “And over, thankfully.”

Laurent set the documents he had been reading through aside, reclining more comfortably in his seat. He watched as Auguste ate, used to the way he tended to leave meetings famished, immediately seeking Laurent out to share a meal with him.

“I’ve actually come to speak with you about something,” Auguste said as he swallowed, reaching for his glass.

“Is everything all right?” Laurent sat up, already mentally running through anything that could have occurred that would require his attention.

Auguste nodded, dusting his hands off as he finished his food. He wiped his mouth one final time and pushed the platter away, reclining in his chair as Laurent had.

“I am to travel to Akielos, two days hence.”

“Akielos,” Laurent repeated.

Vere and Akielos were on peaceful terms, his own father and King Theomedes having reached peaceful agreements years’ prior. However, Vere rarely negotiated with Akielos, and Auguste had never been to the capital of Ios, nor had Laurent.

“Yes,” Auguste said. “Father wants to expand on trade routes, and he believes it will be more prudent that I handle the matter personally with Damianos rather negotiate through letters, seeing that there is a chance that we will work more together in the future.”

“Damianos,” Laurent said.

“The Crown Prince of Akielos,” Auguste nodded. 

Laurent thought back to the last time the palace had seen Akielon delegates. It had been eight years \ years ago, when peace had been declared and treaties were rewritten. Theomedes and Damianos had both come, the bastard thankfully staying behind in Akielos. Laurent had not entered the meeting, being only twelve and holding no place in such negotiations. He had greeted them on the steps with the rest of his family, primarily staying behind Auguste for the entirety of it. 

His memories of Damianos were scarce. He remembered him to have darker coloring, far darker than his own fair complexion. He had been tall, a bit brutish, and they had not spoken, the exception being a diplomatic nod of acknowledgment. 

“You leave in two days?” Laurent clarified.

“I do,” Auguste confirmed. “I was wondering if you would like to accompany me.”

Laurent blinked, taken aback by the invitation. He had never been far from Arles, and certainly nowhere near the southern provinces of Akielos.

“I don’t see what my presence will benefit your trip,” he said.

Auguste smiled. “Not everything is so strategic, Laurent,” he said. “I would simply enjoy your company. I have been busy lately, we haven’t had much time for each other.”

Laurent glanced out the window overlooking the gardens. In truth, he would like a trip. He wouldn’t mind to leave Vere for a while, to see other things.

And alternatively, perhaps a little distance from his usual surroundings could provide a little… perspective, on his predicament. 

“Of course,” Laurent said, turning back to face Auguste. “I would love to come with you.”

 

Laurent was standing at the top of the ship, his arms on either side of him as the palace of Ios came into view. It was enormous, encompassed in tall marble pillars, the palace itself built on high cliffs that overlooked the sea. Laurent thought about what that would be like, to wake up each morning and have the ocean as your view. It was so different than in Vere, and not something Laurent could imagine.

The climate change was already enough to make Laurent want to turn the ship around as it docked in the port. It was scorching, and Laurent could feel the beads of sweat forming on his forehead and at his nape, beneath the fall of his hair. It was good that they would not be here for longer than a week. His skin was sure to burn under the beaming rays of sun. 

“We will have to wear chitons,” he heard, and turned his head to see Auguste approaching him, leaning on the wood next to him. 

Laurent scoffed, turning back to view the wide expanse of blue. “I don’t think so.”

Auguste laughed next to him, turning so his body was turned towards Laurent. Laurent turned as well, facing him better.

“I have spoken to a herald,” Auguste said, running his hand along the smooth edge of the ship. “The King Theomedes appears to be indisposed. We will be greeted by Damianos when we dock.”

Laurent lifted his hair off the back of his neck in search of temporary relief from the heat.

“I am eager to meet with him,” Auguste continued. “I have fine memories of him from his time in Vere, and his letters have indicated to me that he is fair, and open minded, two things I find imperative.” He turned now so he was slouched in Laurent’s previous position, his forearms resting on the ship’s edge. Laurent mirrored his position, and he continued on. “He may need to come back to Arles in the future, and it will be preferable for everyone if we are on amiable terms. Friends, even.”

Laurent nodded in agreement, just as Auguste nudged him playfully. “I’m sure the pets have missed him a great deal.”

Laurent redirected his gaze as he thought back again to Damianos’ time in Vere. Laurent had rarely seen him, apart from the nights they dined in the great hall. He had only stayed at the palace for a handful of days, but it had apparently been enough to give the pets something to talk about. Laurent had heard much of Damianos’ proclivities, even in the weeks following his stay. Whispers and the exchanging of stories could be heard throughout the entirety of the palace, his supposed capabilities nearly mythical sounding. The things Laurent overheard seemed so exaggerated that it had only taken him a few days to understand that they were likely just fabrications. 

“Come,” Laurent heard Auguste say. “We have arrived.”

 

The first thing Laurent noticed was skin. A tasteless amount of skin, hardly concealed by a white chiton, a strong contrast from the olive tones it clung to. Laurent’s eyes rose slowly, taking in all that was before him. He was not sure exactly what he was expecting, but this was certainly more than what his memory served him.

He was large. Obscenely large. Laurent took in his sandaled feet with straps that wound up around strong looking calves. His broad shoulders and wide chest, barely covered by the fabric that crossed him diagonally. He wore a deep, blood red cape that fell down his back, held up by a shining gold lion’s pin that was fastened on one shoulder. 

The next thing Laurent noticed were arms that were now grasping Auguste’s in a friendly gesture. He gripped him firmly, clapping him on the back as if they were old friends, and the movement caused the muscles to strain, making them appear even larger. 

Laurent’s eyes were back on the ocean. The sun was reflecting off the water, causing it to sparkle like diamonds. The wind was light. A breeze really, and Laurent watched as the water lapped against the shore in slow, rhythmic waves.

“Prince Laurent,” he heard suddenly. “Brother of Vere.”

Laurent turned at the sound of his name to see Damianos before him, a few steps closer than he had been before. The proximity was startling, and Damianos’ height did not help matters. He appeared to be an entire foot taller than Laurent, prompting him to tilt his head back just to face him properly.

“Prince Damianos, brother of Akielos,” Laurent replied, mimicking his usage of the fraternal.

Laurent waited for him to respond, to continue on with the usual greetings and questions of their voyage, but nothing came. Damianos simply looked at him, an almost perplexed expression on his face.

Laurent felt discomfort from the silence settle in him slowly, pooling in his stomach. He knew he could never measure up to Auguste’s stature. He would never in his wildest dreams wish to be regarded with the level of respect and admiration that Auguste deserved, but that did nothing to soothe his discomfort at only managing to derive a gawk. 

_This is ridiculous_ Laurent thought when Damianos blinked at him, and it was only when he raised an impatient brow that Damianos spoke. 

“My apologies,” he said, a smile now on his face, replacing the look of bemusement. “It has been a while since we have last seen each other.”

His apology did nothing to soothe Laurent’s slight embarrassment, especially considering it did nothing to explain his actions, or rather, lack thereof. However, he was used to being treated as a lesser, an afterthought. He received enough of that in his own kingdom, and it did not surprise him that he was being subjected to it now.

“It has,” Laurent replied coolly.

“You have traveled far,” Damianos said, looking at each of them now. “Come. I will show you each to your chambers, and give you time to rest.” He turned to Auguste as they began to walk. “We can meet whenever you like, Prince Auguste. After you’ve recovered from your journey.”

Auguste waved the offer away, matching Damen’s stride. “Auguste, please. I see no reasons for such titles if we are to be friends.” It was not often that Auguste gave someone permission to call him by his given name, and it perplexed Laurent that he was offering Damianos this familiarity.

Laurent did not hear Damianos’ response, the sudden gust of wind overpowering his words. He watched as he clasped Auguste on the shoulder again in comradery as they began to walk towards the direction of the palace, Laurent trailing a few paces behind.

 

They were in a large hall that evening, dining with more noblemen and soldiers than Laurent could count. The King Theomedes sat at the high table in the center of the room, the Kyroi seated around him. Laurent sat at an adjoining table with Auguste across from him, Damianos at the head, no one at his side. When Auguste had asked of his brother Kastor’s whereabouts, Damianos had simply replied that he had business elsewhere. 

The large room was dimly lit, lanterns and candles surrounding the walls, reflecting off the white marble, giving the room an illuminated glow. There was a murmur of talk around all the tables, an occasional burst of laughter protruding from someone with too much drink in them. 

Auguste was speaking to someone on his side of the table, a man Laurent had been introduced to when they sat but who’s name he could not recall now. He was left to focus on his plate before him, lifting a sliver of roasted duck to his lips. The food here was satisfactory, and Laurent’s stomach felt contently full as he set his fork down. It was when he was reaching for his linen napkin to wipe his fingers off that he heard a voice, directed at him.

“I wish to apologize again for my previous actions,” Damianos said, causing Laurent to turn towards his direction properly for the first time since he sat. Damianos’ forearms were pressed on the table before him, arms crossed leisurely. He was wearing a new chiton now, gold trimming lining the white material, the same excessive amount of skin showing as before. Laurent looked up and saw that his eyes were wholly on him, the brown appearing much darker in the dim lighting of the room.

It took Laurent a few moments to realize Damianos was referring to his indiscretions by the docks, when he had greeted them. Laurent felt his cheeks heat at the implication, and he regretted not accepting wine that would have served as an excuse for the change of coloring in his features. 

“There is no need to apologize,” Laurent said, reaching for his goblet of water. He took a long sip, hoping the chilled liquid would aid in reducing his body heat. “I have grown accustom to it,” he said as he set the now empty goblet down.

Damianos tilted his head, and the motion caused a curl of hair to fall into his eye. “Pardon?” He said.

Laurent clasped his hands under the table. “I am not unused to my features being my focal point,” he clarified. “Growing up in my court has ensured that.”

Damianos’ expression changed then, taking on one that Laurent could not quite decipher. He looked to the side for a moment, passing a hand over his mouth before returning his gaze to Laurent. 

“I’m displeased to hear that,” he said, much to Laurent’s surprise. “And I apologize profusely if I have given any indication that that is how I view you. I am under no illusions that your appearance is all you have to offer.”

Laurent stared at him blankly, uncertainty spreading throughout him. He spoke slowly, the dubiety he felt translating into his tone.

“That is quite a statement for someone you have met only hours ago.”

“That does not change the fact of the matter,” Damianos replied seriously, his tone carrying a conviction that Laurent did not understand. 

Laurent tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, a nervous habit that he had yet to quell. “You do not know me,” he said, wishing desperately that he could hold himself as confidently and determinedly as Auguste did himself.

“No,” Damianos agreed, shaking his head lightly. “But your brother has spoken highly of you, and not a single part of me doubts anything he has said.” He leaned forward slightly as he spoke, and Laurent was grateful for the thickness of the table, acting as a barrier. “I hope you know, Prince Laurent, that I have only the highest respect for you.”

Damianos was looking at him openly, his gaze warm, his eyes kind. No one but Auguste had ever looked at Laurent like that, and he did not know what to do with it. He reached for his goblet of water, only then remembering that it was now empty. 

To his utter surprise, Damianos reached for the pitcher and refilled the cup. It was not something a Prince would normally do, both for himself or someone else. Laurent reached for the drink immediately to cover the astonished look on his face, just barely mumbling a thank you.

Laurent knew himself, and he knew when he needed a moment alone to regroup. To absorb a situation and collect his thoughts in private. In lieu of rising from his spot and retreating he simply looked off to the side, his goblet dangling from his fingers loosely.

For reasons unfathomable to Laurent, his mind fell back to five years ago, to the many times he had spent in the gardens, overhearing the pets talk amongst themselves. The explicit conversations that had transpired about who they had shared a bed with, and how they still felt the affects of it, hours later.

Laurent felt a new kind of heat spread across his cheeks, fresh with the explicit memories of things that had once seemed incomprehensible to him. He turned his head farther, allowing his hair to fall across his face, acting as a barrier. A shield.

And then, unexpectedly and unexplainably, Laurent’s memories shifted, moving forward a few years, falling to a few nights ago. To his thoughts and considerations. The matter that he had decided was finally time to remedy.

Laurent kept his gaze averted as this thoughts began to run wild. He was in Akielos, in an entirely different country from his own. Unlike in his own kingdom, there was no fear of talk, of word spreading about what Laurent chose to do in the privacy of his rooms. He could satisfy his curiosity, could solve the mystery in his mind of what everyone spoke so vehemently about. If it was as he thought and was simply an exaggeration on everyone’s part, something to gossip about to inflate ones sense of self, then he could know firsthand and put the matter behind him.

Laurent’s thoughts gradually returned to the man sitting next to him, as if each part of his brain was slowly reaching a mutual resolve. Damianos was a Prince. A Crown Prince, and Laurent felt it safe to assume that he would not gallivant around, spreading stories about who he took to bed. He would treat the matter with discretion which above all, Laurent required.

Akielos was a slave culture. It was something Laurent found deplorable, the very nature of it making him uncomfortable. Yet however distasteful, the fact that Damianos kept bed slaves indicated to Laurent that sex was likely impersonal to him, and that he did not give much thought to those he bedded. It was probable that he would not turn down what was simply another offer.

And then of course, there was the matter of simple attraction. Of personal interest. Laurent had seen the slaves and servants serving Damianos as he dined, pouring his wine and cutting his meats. Although primarily female, there had been a few males who attended him as well, something Laurent had immediately taken note of. The next thing he had taken note of was the unmistakable correlation of their coloring, and the startling similarities that Laurent could not help but take personal notice of. 

If Damianos’ gaping when they made their introductions was any indication, Laurent felt fairly confident in assuming he approved of Laurent’s appearance. 

It would mean nothing, Laurent assured himself as the decision made itself in his mind. Simply another tumble, one Damianos would forget the following day, as Laurent was sure he would as well.

He turned back to Damianos to see him speaking to a man he did not recognize, discussing something in hushed tones. Laurent waited patiently, and allowed himself the moment to look at him candidly. He was truly much larger than Laurent remembered him to be, and his features had become significantly more masculine in the years since they had last seen each other. Laurent shifted in his seat, his hands clasped again. He really was-

Brown eyes were on him again, looking at him inquiringly. Laurent glanced to the side and saw that the man had left, and that Auguste was still engrossed in conversation. Laurent took a moment to marvel at the ease with which Auguste carried himself before returning his gaze to his new focus.

“I wish to discuss something with you,” Laurent said, leaving no room in his voice for misinterpretation. He held Damianos’ gaze, and did not allow himself to show a reaction to the headiness of it.

Damianos seemed momentarily taken aback from Laurent’s sudden determinedness, a large contrast to the meek way he had previously held himself. Laurent had a new goal in mind, and he was resilient above all things. 

“Of course,” Damianos said jovially, a new kind of smile on his face that lit up his features unselfconsciously. He turned his entire body towards Laurent, giving him his undivided attention. Good. 

“Not here,” Laurent said. “Is there anywhere else we can speak?”

Damianos looked around the room before returning his gaze to Laurent’s. “Is something the matter?” he asked.

“I wish for a more private setting,” Laurent said plainly.

Damianos tilted his head in thought, running a hand down his chin. “We may retire to my chambers, if you like,” he said. “No one is allowed entry without my-“

He stopped mid sentence, something in his own words giving him pause, but Laurent thought nothing of it. He was nodding his head, removing the linen napkin from his lap. 

“Prince Laurent,” Damianos said, giving a slight shake of his head. “I misspoke. I only meant-“

“All is well,” Laurent replied, waving the explanation away.

“Oh,” Damianos said, seemingly caught off guard by this. He shook his head once more before continuing to speak. “We can speak wherever you prefer, but I feel the need to clarify that I meant nothing with that statement. I hope you have not taken any offense.” 

His insistence was startling, and Laurent worked to repress the quizzical expression he felt on his face. “No offense was taken,” he said, pushing back from the table. “Shall we go?”

This seemed to really take Damianos by surprise, who looked around the room inquisitively. “Now?” He asked. 

Laurent quirked a brow, looking down at Damianos’ empty plate. “Are you otherwise occupied?” he asked.

Damianos looked down at his plate and let out a breath of laughter before looking at Auguste. “Would you like your brother to accompany us?” he asked.

Laurent looked away, feeling the warmth in his cheeks from the question, despite the fact that Damianos did not know what he was asking. Of course he didn’t want Auguste there!

Laurent rose from his chair and made his way to Auguste, placing a hand on his shoulder. Attuned to all things Laurent, Auguste immediately recognized the hand and excused himself from the conversation, turning to look at Laurent with a smile.

“We are going to walk the grounds,” Laurent said, gesturing to Damianos. “I shall see you in the morning.”

Laurent could see surprise take Auguste’s features, looking between Laurent and Damianos. It was very unlike Laurent to have other people in his company, especially by choice. Auguste knew this better than anyone, having endured many hours of Laurent in his teenage years, complaining about the children of the court trailing around after him.

“Would you like me to join you?” Auguste asked softly.

“ _No,_ ” Laurent said, clearing his throat after. “No need,” he squeezed Auguste’s shoulder. “Sleep well, brother.”

Auguste squeezed his hand back with a smile, and Laurent turned to Damianos who was watching the exchange carefully. When he saw Laurent turn he smiled, and Laurent felt the need to avert his eyes.

Damianos stood. “Let’s walk.”

They left the dining hall at each other’s side, Damianos’ deep red cloak swishing around his back as he walked. His long legs carried him easily, and Laurent had to walk quickly to match his stride, all while trying not to show it.

They walked in silence, passing through long halls, marble pillars surrounding them. The ocean could be seen as they walked, the setting sun reflecting off the water, and Laurent found with each passing moment that he rather liked the view. 

It only took a few minutes for them to reach Damianos’ chambers, the two guard posted at the doors not removing their forward gazes as they stepped up to them. Laurent noted that Damianos towered over each of them, both in height and body mass. Laurent looked down at his own nimble body, and felt his eyes move to Damianos in a slow sweep, a glance that was punctuated with a heavy beat of his heart.

“No one enters,” Damianos said, stepping aside as the doors were opened for them, allowing Laurent to walk in first. Laurent stepped in, looking around as he heard the door shut. They were alone.

Laurent took in the rooms, or rather, took in their simplicity. It was all white marble, bare walls and open balconies. Unlike the rooms in Arles there were no rugs, no colorful tapestries adorning the walls. There was a table with multiple chairs surrounding it, and a reclining couch at the side of the room. To the side he saw an archway, one he was sure led to the bedchambers. The narrow opening caught his eye for a moment too long, and Laurent felt his heart begin to hammer in his chest like horse hooves on riding tracks.

“Would you like to sit?” He heard Damianos ask. 

Laurent did not turn to face him as he responded. He could not, in that moment. “I would prefer to look around,” he said, feigning interest at the carvings on the mantel above the fireplace. He realized then that he was being presumptuous, which was not wise if he hoped for the night’s events to tip in his favor. “If that is alright with you,” he said quickly, his embarrassment turning him around. “The rooms here are just so different than in Arles.”

Damianos smiled at him, and Laurent noticed that his eyes held that smile before his lips had even curved up. “Of course,” he said, gesturing forward with his hand. “Feel free.”

Laurent simply blinked, feeling like he was looking at a puzzle that he did not have all the pieces to. Had someone else freely walked around his sanctuary without his express permission, it would not have ended in warm smiles and kind hand gestures. 

Rather question this enigma of a man, Laurent turned around and made for the balcony, feeling the salt air hit his face as he stepped out. Despite the soft sandals, Laurent could hear Damianos come out behind him, leaning his forearms on smooth stone. 

It was silent between them, each of them enjoying the peaceful view in their own way. Damianos stood close enough for his body heat to radiate on Laurent, and the realization of what he was here for settled over him like a blanket of nerves. Nerves, and something else. Something new.

“Your first time in Ios?” Damianos asked, turning to him.

“My first time in Akielos,” Laurent replied, his gaze not moving from the horizon.

“Are you enjoying your stay?”

“It’s beautiful,” Laurent replied honestly. And then as he turned to Damianos, “You speak very good Veretion,” he said. They had been speaking it since he and Auguste had docked. 

“Thank you,” he said around another smile. 

Laurent turned forward once more, focusing all his attention on the glistening water. Damianos knew why they were here, or at the very least, knew that Laurent had a reason for being here. And yet, for some odd reason, he was not pushing Laurent to make his intentions clear. He was aware that Laurent had something to say, and was giving him his time.

He could not stall any longer. He was fairly confident in his assumptions that nothing remarkable awaited him, and it was ridiculous that he was treating the situation with such trepidation. The sooner it was initiated, the sooner it would be over, and Laurent could put this maddening curiosity to rest. 

He took in a breath. A slow, calming inhale before turning to face Damianos, who he saw was already watching him. Laurent lifted his arm to the stone beside him, leaning his cheek as casually as he could manage on his fist. Damianos saw that their small talk was over, and Laurent watched him turn as well, looking at Laurent expectantly.

It was silent for a few moments, Laurent letting the moment draw out before speaking. “I hear you are quite renowned,” he said. He spoke slowly, nonchalantly, keeping the tremor he felt inside out of his voice. 

Damianos opened his mouth to respond, then shut it, only to open it immediately after. Laurent watched in amusement as this went on, waiting.

“Pardon?” Damianos said.

“The pets,” Laurent elaborated. “In Arles. They have spoken a great deal about you. Long after you left, even.”

“Pardon?” Damianos repeated.

“Do try to keep up.”

“I’m sorry,” Damianos said, shaking his head in confusion. He tended to do that a lot, Laurent noticed. “I’m not sure I understand-“

“I think you do.” 

Damianos looked at Laurent like he had grown a second head, which Laurent did not understand. Surely this was not his first conversation of this nature.

Damianos cleared his throat, his eyes flicking out to the sea before returning to Laurent. “What- did you wish to speak about?”

Laurent arched a brow. “Certainly, you are not this obtuse.”

Damianos’ previous look of astonishment did not change, only intensified, if anything. He took his lip between his teeth, and Laurent kept his eyes raised. “Forgive me,” Damianos said. “If you could perhaps- elaborate?”

Laurent passed a hand over his face. It appeared that Damianos was incapable of picking up on subtly, and needed to be handled with the most straightforward approach. Very well.

“I have never,” Laurent said plainly. “And I would like to make my own judgments on the supposed delights, preferably before I leave Akielos.”

Still perplexed, Damianos said, “You- what?”

Laurent looked at him, his amused expression gone.

“Surely you’ve had suitors,” Damianos said carefully. 

Laurent looked back at him steadily, willing his cheeks not to flush as he spoke. “None that caught my attention,” he said simply.

Damianos’ lips parted, just slightly, and it was almost like the light brown of his eyes took on a darker shade. He took a small step forward, and Laurent kept himself where he was, still. 

“And you wish,” Damianos said tentatively, like he was dangling at the edge of a precipice. “For me to make love to you?”

Laurent could not help the burst of heat in his cheeks, could feel the warmth spread across his skin, reaching his neck. He saw Damianos take notice of the startling change in color.

Still, he managed a scoff. “I do not need your flowery,’ he said. “I am not some innocent.”

“Aren’t you?” Damianos asked.

Laurent crossed his arms. “I have made my intentions clear, Damianos.” He leaned a hip on the stone edge of the balcony, his eyes unwavering. “If you are disinterested…”

Damianos took another step forward, no bigger than the last, but just as noticeable. He held his hand out, and Laurent looked down at it equivocally, the palm upturned. 

He spoke. “You can call me Damen,” Damianos said. “I would prefer it, actually.”

“Damen,” Laurent repeated, testing the name on his tongue.

Damianos nodded. “It is my small name,” he explained. “Reserved for intimates.”

Laurent tilted his head. “Are we intimates?”

Damianos smiled, a crooked tilt of his lips, and the nature of it caused something foreign to unfurl inside of Laurent. 

“Unless I have misunderstood,” Damianos said, his hand still outstretched, undeterred. “You are here because you intend for us to be.”

Laurent let out a breath, taking the words in, the veraciousness of them. Perhaps Damianos’ straightforward nature was a good thing. He would be cursory and to the point, and would not feel the need to dote false affections on Laurent. 

Laurent took a leap, and placed his hand in Damen’s.

Visibly pleased at this, Damen closed his fingers around Laurent’s slowly, his large hand entirely enveloping Laurent’s smaller one. Laurent was unsure what Damen’s reasoning for taking his hand was, and he felt an alarming sort of shock when he lifted Laurent’s hand to his lips.

Laurent felt a pulse of static run through him like a thunderbolt, both from the heat of Damen’s breath on his skin, and from the way Damen held Laurent’s eyes as he pressed his lips to Laurent’s knuckles once, then pressing another to his fingers.

They were slow, soft kisses, ones Laurent assumed would be the first touch of lips from a lovers kiss, slow teases that eventually led to more. He would be sure soon enough.

“Well?” Laurent said, unsure if his voice came out as strong as he intended, for he could hardly hear himself over the sound of his heart.

Damen smiled at him above his own hand, still close to his mouth. He did not let go, only used the hold to tug on Laurent gently, taking Laurent with him off the balcony, into the main room and through the alcove, into Damen’s bedchambers.

There was another couch inside the slightly smaller room, small enough to fit two people, maybe. It was pushed against the wall, adjacent to the bed, the cushions soft looking. 

Unlike his chambers in Arles, there were no sheer curtains canopying the bed, no velvet and satin pillows strewn across the sheets, covering them in color. Just a large mattress supported on a rather high beam, the sheets white and bare. 

There was an open window above the bed, long and wide, and the setting sun shone in through the room, dusting the mattress in orange and pink. The room itself had a dim glow now, the sun progressively lowering behind the sea. 

Laurent eyes were on the bed, and nowhere else. He naturally had an analytical mind taking every situation and turning it over mentally, going through the in’s and out’s. He was doing precisely that when he felt a hand touch his shoulder, a warm clasp.

He turned his head and saw Damen looking at him openly. “There is no rush,” he said softly.

Laurent fought the impulse to jut his chin out stubbornly. He was not a child, and would not be coddled. He held his wrist out in front of Damen, and with all the tone of self assured arrogance he could muster said, “Attend me.”

Laurent was not sure how Damen would react to the orders of a servant, if he would recoil and have Laurent undress himself, as he was sure most people would. That, or they would simply tear Laurent’s clothes off, tossing them to the side carelessly at the thought of Laurent’s body.

Laurent found himself looking at Damen’s arms as the thought entered his mind, and he quickly reverted his gaze to his eyes. 

“I’m waiting.” 

Damen took hold of him gently, and his larger hands, his thicker fingers made the bones in Laurent’s wrist feel fragile. Delicate.

Damen did nothing at first, simply stared down at the sleeve, his finger trailing the intertwining laces, his brows slightly furrowed.

“Is something the matter?” Laurent asked. 

Damen looked up with his eye, keeping his head bent down. “This seems needlessly complex,” he mumbled.

Laurent felt the side of his lip quirk, and unlike most times, he did not try to hide it. He let his eyes scroll down the minuscule fabric that clung to Damen’s body, hardly covering any of his skin. “Not all of us see the appeal in simply wrapping our bed sheets around our body in the morning.”

Damen smiled as well, the crooked grin from earlier back on his lips. It was casual, lazily amused, and Laurent had to look down so his hair covered his face.

He brought his own hand to his wrist and tapped a specific knot. “Begin here,” he instructed.

It took Damen a few moments to understand how the lacings worked, but he eventually got the hang of it and began working meticulously. 

He undid the winding laces on Laurent’s wrists slowly. It was a strange contrast from the quick and effortless way that Laurent’s servants worked, and Laurent found his careful consideration oddly endearing. As his skin started to be revealed, Damen pushed the now opened fabric to the side with his thumb and dipped his head, bringing his lips down to the skin. Laurent could feel his pulse pounding, and he felt the unmistakable way it sped up as Damen’s tongue brushed the skin lightly.

Laurent swallowed, torn between the natural inclination to snatch his hand away, and this new, foreign thought of leaving his hand there, seeing how much time Damen would lavish his attention on this insignificant part of his body.

Laurent lifted his other hand to Damen, wordlessly telling him to unlace that sleeve as well. Damen took Laurent’s hand in his and swept his thumb across Laurent’s knuckles slowly before moving to the laces. Like the previous time, Damen’s lips were on his wrist the moment skin was revealed. Laurent felt himself shift. Why was he wasting so much time on these meaningless gestures? 

Laurent cleared his throat, prompting Damen to lift his head. Laurent turned so he was facing the bed, gesturing to his jacket. The laces on this particular one were on the back, and Laurent could not unlace himself if he wanted to.

Understanding the implication, Damen stepped up behind him, and Laurent instantly felt his warmth radiating on him. He swept Laurent’s hair aside, the brush from the strands tickling his nape. Laurent felt him raise both hands to the laces starting just bellow the collar of the jacket, and he began to work. He moved slowly, but faster than he would have had he not had practice on the wrists.

Laurent felt Damen push the now open jacket off his shoulders, and he heard the impact of it as it fell off, hitting the ground. He turned back to face Damen, his hands immediately rising to pull his shirt off.

Damen’s hands were on his then, grabbing them before Laurent could yank. Laurent looked at Damen quizzically as he brought his hands to Laurent’s shoulders, applying a light pressure until Laurent understood and sat down on the mattress.

Sitting on the bed was different than just looking, and Laurent felt the steady beat of his heart start to increase as he felt the cool sheet bellow his hands.

And then his heartbeat _really_ started to increase as he watched Damen lower himself to the ground, on his knees in front of Laurent.

Laurent felt his eyes widen. “What are you-“

“Hush,” Damen said, reaching out for Laurent’s foot.

Damen was a Crown Prince, and he exuded dominance and authority with all that he did, an effortless extension of his power. It was jarring, and unexpectedly heady to see someone of his stature kneeling before Laurent.

“You are royalty,” Laurent said as Damen pulled off one of his boots, not understanding why he felt breathless.

Damen set the shoe aside and lifted Laurent’s leg slightly, dipping his head to place a kiss on the inner part of Laurent’s ankle. 

“And you are exquisite,” Damen replied, pressing another kiss on the skin before setting his foot down, reaching for his other boot.

It was only after both boots were off and to the side that Damen raised himself off the ground. Laurent watched as the raised his hands to his red cloak that had just been pooled on the floor, unpinning it from his shoulders. Laurent waited for him to pull off the rest of his chiton so they could move on, but he did not. He simply stepped forward and sat down on the mattress beside Laurent, turning his body.

They were looking at each other, dusk casting Damen in shadows. Laurent distantly wondered if a servant would enter to light the candles, and remembered that Damen had denied anyone entry.

“Can I kiss you?” Damen asked.

Laurent’s blood began to rush. “If you need to ask me for directive,” he said. “Then perhaps I have come to the wrong person.”

Damen took it for the challenge it was, and in the span of the next long, drawn out moment, his eyes were on Laurent’s, his hand was on his nape, and his lips were on his.

It was a soft touch of lips, barely there, and Laurent could feel it spread through his chest slowly, like warmth was seeping through his veins. It mirrored the gentle kisses that Damen had placed on his fingers on the balcony, and Laurent could feel himself holding his face carefully as he waited for more. 

Damen pressed forward a little stronger, tilting his head as he did. Unsure what else to do, Laurent followed instinct and did the same, and the angle of both of their heads allowed their lips to fits against each other differently. Laurent felt Damen pull back slightly, both lips tugging at Laurent’s as he did, and the sensation of it caused heat to pool low in Laurent’s stomach, the feeling wholly new. Damen pressed forward again and this time, daringly, Laurent met his mouth with a slight press of his own. 

They remained that way for a few moments, the steady push and pull between them until Damen reared back, leaving Laurent’s lips to feel cool and empty. He thought Damen would push him back then and climb atop him, but instead, his lips found their way to the hidden spot bellow Laurent’s jaw.

Laurent had to call on all of his restraint not to gasp at the feeling, and at the shock of the touch. Damen’s mouth lingered there for a moment before sweeping down his neck, his lips brushing his fine skin as he went. He settled his lips in the hollow part above Laurent’s collarbone, and the gentle sweep of tongue had Laurent grasping the sheets in his hand.

“This is unnecessary,” Laurent lied, his grip tightening when Damen’s lips found his pulse. “I asked for something else.”

Laurent could feel Damen smile against him, could feel his lips curve against his skin. He pressed a light kiss to Lauren’s shoulder, and the touch was like a whisper.

“There is no rush,” Damen said, like he had told Laurent when they entered the room. He raised his head as he spoke and reached out for Laurent’s face, running his thumb across Laurent’s cheek.

Laurent felt the deliberate touch everywhere, felt his skin prickle at the unexpected contact. His hands were still at his sides, on the mattress. “I want you to fuck me,” he said, calling on all the Veretion crudeness that growing up in his court provided him. “These additives are not necessary.”

Damen’s hand remained where it was, cupping the side of Laurent’s face, cradling Laurent’s cool cheek in his own large, warm palm. Laurent could feel his breaths leaving him shallowly, and he knew Damen’s eyes were a larger part of that.

“I have told you that I have high respect for you,” Damen said, his thumb on Laurent’s jaw now. “I intend to spend the following hours proving myself to you with the praise that you deserve.”

Laurent felt his breath catch. _Hours?_ He licked his lips once. “I think you overrate yourself.”

Instead of responding, Damen changed his grip on Laurent’s head and used it to pull him back into him.

They were kissing again, Laurent’s palms now hesitantly splayed on Damen’s chest. This seemed to please Damen, who made a sound of pleasure into Laurent’s mouth and leaned forward slightly, his front pressed more firmly into Laurent’s hands. He was hard beneath Laurent’s touch, sturdy like stone, and the thought of that pressing him into the sheets caused Laurent’s fingers to unthinkingly curl.

And then, Laurent _was_ on the sheets, pushed back there slowly with a gentle but firm hand. Laurent kept his eyes closed as he lifted himself slightly, moving back until head touched pillow. He heard a low sound and felt the mattress dip beside him, and he opened his eyes to see Damen splayed out next to him, his weight wresting on his elbow.

“You’re staring,” Laurent said. 

He was, his eyes slowly scrolling down Laurent’s outstretched body. It did not bother Laurent like he would have assumed it would, had he imagined this hypothetically. Quite the opposite, really. 

“You’re beautiful,” Damen replied unabashedly, moving a strand of hair away from Laurent’s face. “Divine. I’m trying to understand how I am so lucky.”

Laurent felt his cheeks color, and resigned himself to the fact that this would not be the last time tonight. “You don’t need to say such things,” he said quietly. “You already have me in your bed.”

Damen looked down at him openly, his features taking on an expression that Laurent could not place in that moment. His hand had remained where it was when he pushed the lock away, and he rubbed Laurent’s earlobe softly between thumb and forefinger. “I am not sure why you haven’t been treated with the grace you deserve,” he said. “But I’m honored that I’ve been given the opportunity.”

“Kiss me,” Laurent replied boldly. 

He did, taking both of Laurent’s cheeks in his hands as he lowered himself so their faces were close, their lips brushing again. He could feel the slight pressure from Damen’s body on his, and it wasn’t enough.

Laurent felt Damen’s hand fall to the bottom of his shirt, his fingers light on the sliver of skin that was exposed. “Can I take this off?” he whispered, his lips still close enough to Laurent’s that he could feel the words being said.

“If you ask permission every step,” Laurent said, placing a hand on Damen’s shoulder. “We will be here all night.”

Damen smiled, pecking Laurent’s lips once. “I intend to be here all night regardless,” he said. Before Laurent’s mind could properly register the words, he had both hands on the bottom of Laurent’s shirt, and Laurent was raising his arms so the fabric could be pulled off him.

He was bare chested now, his pants the only thing left on him. He could feel the way his hair had been tousled from the shirt, surely in disarray around Damen’s pillow. Damen leaned back and looked intently, and Laurent could not help but squirm under the close attention. 

And then Damen’s hand was on Laurent’s chest, trailing down slowly across his skin, and somehow against all odds, all preconceived assumptions, the touch was a comfort. One Laurent could never before remember feeling.

Laurent closed his eyes just as Damen’s mouth touched skin, following the path his hand was creating. He started just bellow Laurent’s shoulder, moving down his chest with steady purpose. His longer, more unruly curls fell down his forehead, brushing across Laurent’s skin, causing Laurent to shiver with each tender press of lips. 

Without thinking, Laurent’s hand was on Damen’s forehead, pushing his hair back off his face. He froze, his hand paused just on top of Damen’s curls, not sure what he had just done or why he had done it. Damen’s lips paused as well, suspended just above Laurent’s pectoral muscle. He stayed there, and Laurent could feel his breath hitting Laurent’s skin in heavy breaths. 

Laurent was unsure how Damen would react, and felt himself somehow both tense up and relax when Damen gave a contented hum, nuzzling his head into Laurent’s hand. Laurent sighed quietly, and let his hand sweep through his hair, feeling the soft strands tousle through his fingers as he settled his palm on Damen’s nape, gripping him lightly as he continued with his soft kisses against Laurent stomach. 

This was… not what Laurent was expecting. He had anticipated this to be quick, dispassionate, stolid. In all honestly, by this point he had expected to be well on his way back to his own chambers with the knowledge in mind that he had been correct, and this in fact was nothing more than an exaggerated time pass.

What he did not expect was for his chest to be rising and falling, for his toes to be helplessly curling into the bedding, or for his heartbeat to accelerate at this rate, just from Damen’s lips alone. 

“You are still fully clothed,” Laurent observed, his eyes squeezing at how breathless he sounded. 

“Would you prefer otherwise?” Damen asked, pressing an open kiss to the dip by Laurent’s hipbone.

His tongue swept out along the jutting bone, and Laurent’s hand dropped to the bed. “Don’t ask stupid questions,” he said, grasping at the sheets when Damen rubbed at Laurent’s sides. 

Damen sat up then, and to Laurent’s surprise, pulled Laurent with him. Laurent wasn’t even sure where he grasped him, it had happened so fast. But suddenly they were both sitting up, their chests nearly touching.

Damen took Laurent’s hand and brought it to the gold pin at his shoulder, fastened to the knot of fabric. “Help me,” Damen said.

Laurent brought both hands to the lion, trying to steady his shaky fingers as he worked the pin, pulling it away. The second it was off the cloth by Damen’s shoulder unwound, falling down his chest in waves, pooling at his hips. 

Laurent’s eyes lowered instinctively, and if he had though Damen looked strong before, it was nothing compared to how he looked now, all muscles, ripples and curves. He reached a tentative hand out, his fingers light on his skin, and Laurent could feel his face flush as Damen closed his eyes, exhaling loudly from the feel of Laurent’s hand.

He opened his eyes slowly, after a moment. He took Laurent’s hand again and swept it across his abdomen, towards the cloth at his waist. “There is one more,” Damen said, closing Laurent’s fingers around the smaller pin. 

Laurent looked down at their hands, at the contrast of color and size. Damen removed his hand slowly, and Laurent carefully worked the pin out. 

The fabric fell open, and Damen lifted his hips slightly so he could pull the fully unwound cloth away from his body, tossing it aside carelessly. It landed on the ground with a thump.

Laurent’s eyes remained where they were for a moment, looking at the spot between Damen’s hip and the mattress before his eyes turned. 

And stayed. 

Eventually, he dragged his eyes up. Damen was watching him carefully, his eyes so intense that Laurent could feel them holding him in place. He said nothing as Damen brought his hand to Laurent’s cheek, and he didn’t fight it as their lips touched again, lowering slowly so Laurent was on his back, Damen now above him.

Damen traced his tongue along Laurent’s bottom lip, tasting the edge. On a whim, Laurent opened his mouth slightly, hesitantly. Damen spread his lips above his and Laurent felt a shock of heat as Damen’s tongue slid into his mouth. Damen’s hold on Laurent’s cheek tightened, and Laurent heard him moan as he pressed their mouths together harder, pushing Laurent back into the pillow. The sound was obscene, and Laurent felt it rumble in his chest. 

Damen brought his hands under Laurent’s back, wrapping his ridiculously large arms around him, holding him close. Laurent felt enveloped, confined, but it didn’t overwhelm him. It made him feel safe.

After only a moment of deliberation he lifted his own hands, wrapping them around Damen’s neck, pulling him in even closer. Damen made the sound again, and Laurent felt the gasp it pulled from his lips when Damen nipped at him lightly. He took Laurent’s lip between his after and sucked, soothing it from the bite.

Laurent felt Damen’s hands start to lower, fingers trailing skin as he reached the waistband of his pants. This time he didn’t bother with laces, just curled his fingers into the sides. He pulled back, and the sound their lips made could be heard in the entire room. 

“Can I?” Damen whispered. 

Laurent nodded, closing his eyes. 

Damen gave a tug, and Laurent felt the fabric slide down his legs, hitting the ground after. The sound it made was louder than Damen’s chiton.

It was silent for a few seconds, all touches momentarily stopped. Laurent opened his eyes slowly and saw Damen seated back, looking at him. All of him.

Laurent pulled his eyes up to Damen’s, and the look in his eyes was enough to make Laurent want to hide his face.

“Perfect,” Damen whispered. “You are perfect.”

Laurent pushed a lock of hair behind his ear, the usual nervous habit. He kept his fingers there, his eyes still on Damen.

Damen’s eyes darkened, just so. “I want you,” he said.

Laurent felt like something was exploding in his stomach, causing a series of warm fluttering. 

“Show me,” he replied.

He did not have to be asked twice. Laurent had barely managed a blink before Damen was back on top of him, their chests and thighs aligned. Laurent felt the impression of him everywhere, and he could feel the way his chest rose and fell as Damen’s hand traveled down him slowly, only stopping when he reached between his thighs. 

Laurent felt like time stopped as Damen wrapped a hand around him, his grip somehow both gentle and firm. Damen brought his thumb across the head once, twice, and Laurent’s hand shot out helplessly to grip Damen’s bicep as he pressed down into the slit.

Damen’s mouth was on Laurent’s, but they were not kissing, not really. They were pressed against each other, their foreheads touching, breathing each other’s air as Damen’s hand moved along Laurent’s cock slowly. 

Laurent tried to remain as still as possible, but Damen was pressing light kisses around his face, all in time with the steady movement of his wrist, and Laurent couldn’t help it when his hips bucked up into his touch. He wanted to stop, to control himself better, but he could hardly even control his own breathing in that moment.

Damen’s grip tightened, his movements becoming more pointed, and Laurent began to feel a heavy pressure in his stomach, intensifying with each passing moment. His other hand reached out for Damen’s shoulder, the muscle hot and tight beneath his fingers.

“I,” Laurent said, the word coming out as a whimper as Damen licked bellow his chin, his wrist twisting slowly. 

“Yes,” Damen replied, pressing his lips to Laurent’s, his shoulder moving in his hold from the quickening movements of his hand.

Laurent thought the pressure of Damen’s lips on his would block out sound, but the soft moan he let out could still be heard, only slightly muffled by Damen’s mouth. It vibrated between them, and Damen’s free hand came up to cup the back of Laurent’s head, pulling him in closer.

The feeling was all too much and not enough. A part of Laurent wanted to remain here, with Damen’s hand alone bringing him to heights he never imagined, but if this alone could do this for him, he wanted to know what else Damen could give him. Needed to know. 

Laurent brought both hands to the front of Damen’s shoulders, pushing just enough to separate their lips.

“Touch me,” Laurent said, hoping Damen would understand what he was asking for.

Damen’s eyes flashed, and then both of his hands were on Laurent’s face, holding him tighter than ever.

“Yes,” Damen said against Laurent’s mouth. “Yes.”

Damen pressed one last kiss on Laurent’s lips before his weight was gone, leaving Laurent to instantly feel empty, the absence of Damen’s heat far too noticeable. It did not last long, though. A few seconds of riffling and Damen was back above him, blanketing Laurent in his warmth.

Laurent heard something like swishing, heard the sound of a phial being opened, a stopper dropping to the floor, and each distinct noise was another addition to his unsteady breathing. His gaze remained on Damen’s, holding his eyes as he lowered his face, kissing the side of Laurent’s mouth.

Laurent’s arms remained at his sides, the cool sheets a comfort to his overheated skin. It was like a jolt when Damen took one of his hands, lifting it up to his mouth. It should not have come as a shock, but everything Damen did managed to surprise Laurent. Everything about him was new, yet he could not believe they had not known each other before today.

Damen held him by the wrist, where he could surely feel Laurent’s quickening pulse. Their eyes connected, just as Damen pressed a kiss to his palm.

“You are ethereal,” Damen said, lacing their fingers together. “Unimaginable. I feel as if I have dreamt you.”

Laurent felt tenuous, his entire body unsteady from Damen’s impounding gaze, his penetrating words. He felt dizzy suddenly, and all he managed was a tug on their hands, knowing Damen’s proximity would ground him. They kissed slowly, soundly, the entire room reshaping around them as everything narrowed to the feeling of Damen’s lips on his.

And then the feeling intensified as Laurent felt Damen’s slick finger on him, slowly circulating the spot where no man had ever touched before. His eyes, uncontrollably, fell shut.

Instead of the press of an oiled finger, Laurent felt a thumb, softly trailing his eyelids.

“Please,” Damen whispered. “Look at me,”

Helpless, Laurent’s eyes opened, Damen’s only inches away. Laurent fought to keep his trembling at bay as he felt Damen rub at him slowly, just at the edge of where Laurent, unbelievably, wanted him most. He felt as if everything had stopped for a moment and then, slowly, Damen was inside. 

It was like a pressure, a slight, stinging pressure that caused Laurent’s mouth to fall open, his entire body suddenly feeling too tight. He drew in a breath, and felt something inside him flutter as Damen’s lips found his neck.

Laurent exhaled, the feeling of Damen’s wet lips on the sensitive skin unexpectedly strong, transforming into something Laurent never felt before as he felt Damen start to move.

Damen’s lips were on his skin again, each press in tandem with the shifting of his finger. Each kiss was lighter than the last, unlike his finger that intensified with each push, and the contrasting touches caused an unexpected sensation to unfurl inside Laurent. He felt torn, split, two completely different caresses that were working together to affect his body in altering, wracking waves.

Breathing had become difficult, and Laurent could see it mirrored in Damen, in this small, intimate space between them. Laurent was on the receiving end and yet somehow, he could see perhaps a fraction of what he felt reflected in Damen. In the rise and fall of their chests, in the unsteady breaths, in the pounding heart he could feel, pressed warmly against his own chest.

Laurent could feel himself stretching as Damen added another finger, his body slowly acclimating to Damen. Laurent felt himself clenching around him, felt the slow drag and push, a sensation Laurent never imagined feeling. Never imagined wanting. 

His leg lifted slowly, his thigh wrapping around Damen because he couldn’t help it, and because despite how close they were, he wanted them closer. Damen was warm between him, his skin smooth and taught. Laurent felt the press of his fingers twinning with the feel of his body above his, and it was enough for Laurent to press his heel in stronger. 

“Damen,” he whispered, the name falling from his lips without much thought, and the way it left him in a gasp cracked him open. Exposed. 

Damen’s face was pressed into the crook between Laurent’s neck and shoulder, his hair tickling Laurent’s cheek with each press forward of his arm. His lips were open, his breathing heavy in Laurent’s ear. Hearing his name on Laurent’s tongue caused his fingers to speed up slightly, and Laurent couldn’t help the strangled sound that hung between them.

“You,” Damen said, the sound a rasp in Laurent’s ear. “You feel-“

It was like Laurent was no longer in control of his body as he turned his face to the side, meeting Damen’s gaze. His lips were parted slightly, his eyes dark and wide as he stretched Laurent more with each press.

“I want to feel you,” Laurent said, the words leaving him with rough honestly that he never would have given to anyone else. 

“Are you sure?” Damen asked, his hand still moving as he spoke. 

This time it was Laurent who brought his hands to Damen’s face, pulling him in close.

Damen removed his hand, and Laurent felt uncomfortably empty until Damen’s arms were around him, pulling their bodies closer, their thighs tangling together like it was simply instinct for them to join like this. It was impossible for Laurent to feel empty in that moment.

“I want you,” Laurent said against Damen’s lips, repeating what Damen had told him, earlier in the night. Damen’s hold against him tightened, and Laurent could feel Damen, hot against his thighs.

Laurent brought his arms to either side of him, ready to turn over, when Damen brought a steadying hand to his shoulder. Laurent glanced up at him from beneath his lashes and saw Damen looking down at him, a hand slowly trailing his flank.

“We can do this however you like,” Damen said, hand on hip now. “But I wish to look at you.”

Laurent let out a breath, only managing to nod. He relaxed his hands, willing his entire body to relax as Damen slicked himself, his eyes not leaving Laurent as he did.

And then he was pressing inside, slowly, everything else fading away but the feeling of Damen above him, of Damen inside him. Of _Damen._

Laurent felt a burning sensation, almost like he was too full, like Damen would not fit all the way inside. Damen moved at a slow pace, an agonizingly slow pace, and a part of Laurent wanted to use his hands to press Damen all of the way in so he could put the unknown, beginning part of this behind him.

It was almost too much. Laurent’s body was tense, his hands grasping the sheets in his fists, his lips tight between his teeth. His eyes were shut, his heart almost bruising his chest. 

He felt Damen pull back slightly, pushing in a bit farther than he had before. He felt himself being stretched further, far more than Damen’s fingers had. His chest felt tight, and Laurent had the sudden thought that perhaps this was not for him.

And then just as the thought entered his mind, he felt two hands taking his, pulling them back from their tightening grip in the sheets. He felt Damen lift their hands slowly until they were on the pillows above their head, fingers lacing together slowly. The stretch in Laurent’s arms caused Laurent’s chest to rise off the bed slightly, pressing it into Damen’s. The feeling was warm, comforting, and Laurent felt a minor part of himself lighten at the familiar sensation.

They were entirely aligned now, thigh on thigh, chests rubbing, the span of their arms, pressed together smoothly. Damen pushed his hips once more, just as his lips found the spot below Laurent’s jaw, and for the first time, the press caused a new feeling to spark inside Laurent.

They were kissing now, slow, deliberate kisses, a blend of lips and breath and give and take, and with each gentle sweep of Damen’s tongue, each light grazing of his teeth, Laurent felt his body begin to relax, slowly giving himself over to something else. Something new.

Damen brought a hand to Laurent’s thigh, lifting it above his own as Laurent had before, and began to rub the straining muscles slowly, causing it to feel lax and heavy against Damen’s back. A steady press, a lingering kiss, and Laurent’s other leg was winding around Damen, at his own accord this time.

Damen’s hands slid down Laurent’s back, moving with the ripples and bumps, and Laurent felt an added sensation as Damen’s large, capable hands cupped him slowly. It was deliberate, unexpected, and the feeling only heightened when Damen tightened the hold slightly, pressing their hips together in addition to the rocking of his hips.

The added movement caused Damen to press against Laurent in a new way, and Laurent felt something wholly new that caused him to gasp, leaving him in a shocked, forceful sound. 

Damen’s hold tightened from the sound, and he began to move rhythmically against Laurent, hitting against that same spot repeatedly, making Laurent feel like every sense in his body had amplified, all surrounding Damen’s insistent presses. 

Laurent’s thighs tightened around Damen helplessly, some desperate attempt to get him closer. His arms wrapped around Damen’s neck, his fingers grasping at the shorter hairs there, and that too was out of his control. At some point since he had walked into Damen’s chambers, he had lost all semblance of control. 

“Laurent,” he heard Damen say into his ear, rocking against Laurent like the waves they had been watching, earlier in the evening. 

The instinctual part of Laurent wanted to tell Damen he took liberties, to correct his lack of Laurent’s honorific. But the larger part of him, the new, foreign part of him reveled in it, in the unexpected sensuality of hearing his given name on Damen’s tongue.

All he could do was whisper Damen’s name back to him, his hands tightening around him as he felt a pressure build in his chest, making Laurent feel like he was being pulled up, out of his own body.

Damen pressed his lips on Laurent’s strongly, more forceful than he had yet to. His hands were on Laurent’s hips, his thumbs rubbing in circles as their lips moved synchronously, matched for the rhythm that their bodies were making, Laurent now pressing up to meet each intoxicating press of Damen’s body. 

“I’ve wanted you,” Damen said, the words leaving him in shallow pants against Laurent’s lips. “Since the moment I saw you.” He rolled his hips then, pressing Laurent powerfully into the sheets, and Laurent could not help the moan it pulled from his lips.

He continued to move against Damen, letting himself simply feel the exhilarating impact of their bodies before speaking, the words leaving him in broken gasps. “You have me now,” he said, the feeling inside him cresting.

The sound Damen made at that was piercing, and Laurent felt it in his entire body as his own body reached it’s peak, climax taking him like waves crashing against the shore, causing him to shake and tremble, his breath leaving him in fractured gasps as he lost all touch of reality for a moment. All he was conscious of was Damen’s last few thrusts before his arm was braced above Laurent’s head, just barely holding himself up as he came inside Laurent.

It was silent inside the room, nothing between them but the sound of their breathing, and Laurent’s heartbeat, which Laurent was sure Damen could hear. 

Eventually Damen pulled himself out, and Laurent gave a small wince at the feeling. He felt impossibly empty again, but it was quickly remedied when Damen lied next to him, fitting himself close to Laurent’s sprawled out, heaving body. 

Laurent looked down at his body, grimacing slightly when he saw the mess on his chest. He made to rise from the bed and clean himself off, but immediately felt Damen’s arm on him, pushing him back down.

“Allow me,” Damen said, retrieving a towel seemingly out of thin air, bending over Laurent and wiping him off in smooth, gentle strokes. He tossed the cloth aside mindlessly after, pressing a single kiss to Laurent’s navel before moving his head back to his pillow. This, despite everything that had just transpired between them, caused Laurent to flush again.

Damen ran a finger along the heated skin, his touch only intensifying it. “That’s lovely,” he said, his voice fond.

Laurent scoffed, turning his head so he was looking up at the ceiling, but he felt a similar feeling in his chest. He closed his eyes and felt himself slowly return to his body. It was only when he heard Damen speak that he opened his eyes again. 

“I must say,” Damen said, causing Laurent to turn his head to the side. “This entire ordeal has been quite backwards for me.”

“Backwards?”

Damen nodded. He was on his side, his head balanced on his palm. “Generally, I prefer to court someone properly before I bed them.”

Thankfully, Laurent’s cheeks did not heat again. He brought his head up to rest on his hand as Damen had, miming his relaxed pose. “Well,” he said. “I did not give you much say in the matter, did i?”

Damen smiled, reached out to brush a knuckle against Laurent’s cheek. He took a strand of Laurent’s hair after, rubbing the lock between his fingers. “How long do you stay in Ios?” Damen asked, lifting his gaze back to Laurent’s. 

“A few days,” Laurent replied, ignoring the pressure he felt from at the words. 

Damen shifted in, bringing their bodies closer. His large body already took up most of the space on the bed, but Laurent found that he didn’t feel crowded. He felt… content.

”If that is not enough time,” Damen said, his fingers trailing Laurent’s neck now. “I will just have to continue my pursuit in Arles.”

Laurent blinked. “Arles?”

Damen nodded again, his thumb sweeping distractingly across Laurent’s bottom lip. “I have the sudden urge to see the northern provinces,” he said, cupping Laurent’s chin in his hand. “Will you show me around?”

Laurent felt the words linger between them, felt them enter his mind and reshape something inside him. He held Damen’s gaze as he spoke. “We’ll have to see how these next few days go,” Laurent said. “After all, I am not easily courted.”

Damen smiled, his now familiar, encompassing smile, and it was the last thing Laurent saw before he brought their lips together again.

Laurent wasn’t content. He was happy.

**Author's Note:**

> http://laurent-ofvere.tumblr.com


End file.
